


Comfort Zone

by the_bees_tales9229



Series: Juicy Things [1]
Category: Batman: Arkham (Video Games)
Genre: Big Disclaimer - Freeform, Double Life, Easter Eggs, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fanfiction, Jason-Centric, Much Fanfic, NSFW, Normal Life, Romantic Fluff, Slice of Life, Unresolved Cases, not mine, romantic sex, video game references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 05:37:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10656006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_bees_tales9229/pseuds/the_bees_tales9229
Summary: A Slice-of-Life story. Set a few years after the Arkham-verse storylines. Jason Todd seems to have found peace in his life: a busy schedule, a home and someone worth keeping.





	1. Comfort Zone

**Author's Note:**

> Update 2018: Originally Greg's (a friend of mine) fanfic. A Red Hood fanfiction, set on the Batman: Arkham video game series. This is light and NSFW is on chapter two.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason goes home earlier than expected and continues to pore over his work. Just another night in the quieter part of Gotham with his girlfriend...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update 08/21/18: some details are polished and updated. I'm working on a prequel/origin on how they met.

Jason usually has a ‘sixth sense’ for the bad things; tonight, however…he can feel tonight may be a good night, even here in Gotham City. Okay, maybe _one_ bad thing might sprout its ugly head, but tonight some good may come out to squash the bad one.

He had finished his job earlier than expected; the bastards that had been terrorizing Otisburg lately had been apprehended—not _killed_ , which he would prefer them dead since those criminals have records that could fill a ten-volume encyclopedia collection—but decided against it, in favor of not angering the GCPD and putting another reason on the Red Hood’s Wanted List. Sure, he gets his daily reminder from Oracle and Replacem— _Robin—_ regarding how they need those thugs alive for interrogation behind GCPD bars, but sometimes, it’s _her_ face that pops into his head that makes him rethink on applying calm, rational action on the situation instead.

Speaking of her face, Jason could see her walking on the sidewalk across from where he stood, at the top of an old apartment roof. The job’s done and he is going home now…

He rappels down the side of the building and, as quiet as a cat, lands on the alley between the apartment and a closing pawn shop. From across the shadowy alley, his girlfriend walks among other Gothamites, her light, brunette curls tied haphazardly in a bun. It looks like she had a long day.

The population is lower here in this particular suburb—and so is its crime rate—unlike the densely populated and commercialized islands, and the central Gotham mainland; because of that, he’s not too worried for her walking at night time. Plus, he can still spot her figure on an almost-bare sidewalk.

Felixa Lowe has gone to the supermarket again, carrying a paper bag of vegetables and meat she knows her boyfriend needs. She walks with a purpose, a bit hurried in the way her shoes audibly _clacks_ against the old pavement. She has, undoubtedly, wanted to prepare them a decent meal again, as a way of avenging themselves from the take-aways they had had to endure under Dick’s roof a few days ago, when they had an assignment on Bludhaven. Felixa had volunteered as their medic and, having grown a bit disgruntled with Dick’s ‘efficient’ diet of fast foods, she became their cook before they all cleared house after that mission. Jason knew both Tim and Barb shared his grateful sentiment about the actual food she had cooked as a celebratory meal for their mission success. Jason, on the other hand, was happy Felixa was simply around.

Taking advantage of the shadows and security camera-free alley, Jason pushes a button at the back of his red helmet. The blood-red domed surface of the Red Hood’s helmet pulls away to reveal a scarred and chiseled face; with the helmet locks around his head and neck smoothly unlocking, the helmet slides off easily and he tucks it underneath his arm. He finds a nicely-hidden duffel bag full of Red Hood gear, placed inside a basement window of the dark pawn shop, behind a large metal garbage container; opening the bag, a lightweight, heavy-duty container with a numerical security lock is revealed. Punching the right numbers, the container opens and he places the helmet on what appears to be a metallic, domed indentation, perfectly fitting the helmet there. He quickly takes the grey bomber jacket and folds it to fit it inside a slimmer, ziplock-looking container, as well as his kevlar and weapons, all fitted on their own molded fittings within the duffel bag. Securing the duffel bag again inside its shadowy hiding place, Jason could just imagine the horror on Felixa’s voice if she finds out about how he hides twenty percent of his vigilante gear, camouflaged as unwanted pieces of trash, then worn and used on his body; just like Alfred (Jason’s chest tightens a little), Felixa’s concern is as deep as the Mariana’s trench and has a fury against mistreated and spoiled things or people...especially _people_ ; with that, she doesn’t need to know _this_. Besides, the gear’s containment is _sealed_ air-tight within the seemingly-abused duffel bag.

He does smirk at the thought of how Dick would flip off his head when he becomes suspicious of the Red Hood’s gear hiding inside notorious Bludhaven spots, but that’s another story…

Standing just beside the corner of the pawn shop building, Jason looks to where Felixa stands three blocks away. She appears to be fishing inside her coat pocket for the keys on the front door of the boarding house they live in. Jason was considering on getting over there to help her, when the front door was opened by the landlady, who must still be awake watching late night shows; his gaze follows Felixa as she goes inside and chats with her, until the front door shuts close.

Living near the city limits of Gotham City, Jason has to admit that the people here are much more... _civil_ than their heavily-urbanized cousins, but that’s what you get when high-profile criminals and crazed supervillains terrorize your neighborhood on a daily basis, even on the luxurious Bristol Township and the old rich flavor of Crest Hill.

Jason Todd is a pragmatic man; he never lives too long on any of his safe houses, not even the one Tim has so kindly left him one grandiose penthouse within Bristol, on Jason’s _birthday_ , no less. Each safe house is, thankfully, armed to the teeth with security and hidden arms, connected directly to the Clock Tower’s computers and to the Panessa Studios’ intelligence. However, this paranoid, better-be-safe-and-fast-than-be-killed attitude has softened a _little, tiny bit_.

Against all his better judgment, even on a supposedly safe part of Gotham, Jason Todd _lives_ with his girlfriend. Which is dangerous for the both of them. But with the demands of each of her part-time jobs, Jason knew how important it was she has, at least, one solid home— _safe house—_ to depend on.

It’s both endearing and worrying him that Felixa is willing to move to different safe houses with him when bigger threats arise in Gotham. If it becomes apparent that it’s _really_ dangerous for her to stay with them, they have an arrangement on how she can get away from the city and rendezvous with her brother on another state.

They could always come up with a better arrangement, but since Felixa’s practically a part of the dysfunctional, crime-fighting vigilante family, it’s no wonder she can’t leave. Even if Jason is willing to part with her, it’s not always an easy feeling.

Especially since he can admit that he needs her more than what it appears…

Procuring a cap from inside the pocket of his hooded jacket, Jason presses the cap further on his head, making sure the visor is low enough to hide his eyes. He does his best to look casual as he smooths the long-sleeves to hide the scars as he walks among the civvies, not looking them in the eye or face, just trying to ‘ _blend in’_ , as the phrase implies, until he reaches the same front door.

He forces out the anxious breath he’s been keeping and rings the bell.

Since the landlady had just answered the door earlier, Jason’s willing to play out the civilian part a little longer—a big, burly, middle-class, young American jock who’s just getting by. He remembers all the different alibis he had come up regarding his night shifts in Wayne Enterprises as some sort of part-time IT technician (which is _true,_ actually, as Lucius was kind enough to hire him because of his skills, but that’s not the point) and how he had given the only copy of the front door key to his girlfriend; Jason has also memorized the patterns of his neighbors and how he can react to them: greet the neighbors who might still be awake, be polite and calm, especially to the elderly on the upper floors; ignore the flirtatious teens on the second floor (if they are any invited over), don’t talk back to Mrs. Simcocks if she happened to be dramatically spewing out political conspiracies again in the B&B room, and he would be just fine…

“Oh, Jason!” The landlady is an old cheery woman, with a hearing aid that she would dial to low volume when she doesn’t like hearing thunder, or when there are petty arguments among neighbors on the hallway or on the B&B Room. She gets salty quick and settles the noise by giving them milk and cookies to shut their dispute and finally make up, or just being there on the same space with them to silently judge them; in the end, she wins. “You’re back early from your work?”

“Yep,” he does his best to do a cheery tone, admittedly a similar tone like Dick’s, who’s a master at hiding his exhaustion better with his supermodel smiles, which he doesn’t have, but it’s better to sound cheerful to the landlady who’s given him a home. But the landlady could hear how tired he must be, because she’s squinting her eyes at him and subconsciously touches her earlobe. Her hearing aid’s in full volume. “Not a lot of work, but the boss is giving us too many product training again...boring stuff, almost fell asleep.”

Truth was, he was ready to nap on a dilapidated old bedroom that once belonged to a child in Otisburg for waiting it out for his targets. Robin was kind enough to play his favorite rock bands on their shared comms, just to pass time. When it was _their_ favorite indie band playing, Dick was doing his best to sing along in the comms, but his voice warbled badly that Jason threatened him, which Tim kindly re-translates it to “Dick...stop...please…” and he thankfully shuts up and he was wide awake long enough to finish that song. Felixa’s voice in their was always, _always_ a wondrous experience. He wondered how she could work herself so hard and _still_ find some time to produce songs with her underground band…

“Bah! Whatever kind of technology it is, it better cure cancer! You poor thing.” She kindly pats his arm, in a grandmotherly sort of way. “There’s some black coffee on the B&B counter, if you like. Jonny’s got a big exam tomorrow, so he’s pulling a study party tonight with his buddies, so they’re loading themselves with a lot of caffeine.” Jason could see she’s holding a black cup of the liquid herself. She must be marathoning her late night shows. “It’s best that we stay as quiet as we can. You don’t want Jonny spewing his vitriol all over! He _really_ wants to pass his exam.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Omali. I’ll pass the coffee, though.” Jason can understand Jonny’s determination, especially at his school age. Jonny is dedicated to his family, as they had apparently grown up in an impoverished part in Maine and Gotham, although not really anyone’s best choice, is waving a ticket for him to succeed. Because Jason had been background checking people since Robin-training days, Jason at least has an idea of who Felixa’s neighbors are. _It always saves lives to know more._

“Jonny and I are cool. And we _won’t_ be interrupting your TV marathon.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Good night!” And with that, the landlady happily goes back to where her room is; she opens the door and, as Jason ascends the stairs to the second floor, the faint sound of laughter from an audience on her television floats briefly outside its living space, before she shuts the door tight, and the boarding house becomes almost quiet.

Jason could hear nothing on the second floor as he continues to ascend the stairs. Truly, Jonny and his classmates are on a mission to pass their exam tomorrow, which means Daisha’s not in her flirting games, _thank god_.

Going another floor up, the muffled laughter of a father and his children playing in their bedroom tickles his ears and Jason recalls Mr. Hendrickson’s recent recovery from being hospitalized from a brutal attack on his store in Coventry. Red Hood and Robin saved him, along with the other employees just in time, but the store he manages has been burned to the ground. Despite the recent misgiving, Jason’s glad Mr. Hendrickson’s pulling through.

Upon reaching the fourth floor, Jason smiles as the smell of a favorite meal managed to waft through the crack of their apartment door.

He’s home…

Pushing the doorbell with his thumb, Jason hears the bell signal inside their apartment, as well as the soft and subtle whirring of electronics hidden inside the ‘doorbell’. The security identification system he and Barb had installed not only makes sure it knows and responds to the friendlies, but also alerts them of any unknown individual or potential enemy that’s trying to get in.

_Poor Stephanie._ He smirks at the memory of Felixa’s friend and bandmate—and unfortunately, a vigilante in her own right—Stephanie Brown, once trying break inside her apartment room, only to find the new security system worked  _too well_ and had to wait for them to welcome her inside. The reason had been very poor (Stephanie supposedly lost her toothbrush during a sleepover  _last year!_ ) and likely had been Stephanie being  _too_ protective of her friend for having…well, someone like  _him_ as a boyfriend, or even as an acquaintance.

He shoves the thought away, content on having something to mull over his significance to his girlfriend’s life, as he hears her footsteps coming to the door, unlatching several locks he had _insisted_ they should have. Felixa pulls it open and she greets him with a smile. “Hey, hey.”

“Hey,” he pecks her on the lips as he goes inside their apartment. He thought Felixa looks cute on her red apron, with her brown curls of hair still tied haphazardly in a high bun and her warm, brown skin glowing from a bit of perspiration. He feels guilty for thinking like some sort of perverted chauvinist, drinking in the details of his girlfriend, but there’s no denying her beauty.

“You’re early.” She sounds happy and very _relieved._ “Good thing. Dinner will be ready. Did Mrs. Omali let you in?”

Jason’s lips curl as he observes her watching over the gleaming pots on the electric stove. There’s _four_ that’s slow cooking _._ “Yep, she did. Gave me a talk about Jonny’s study party. You seem to be making a family-sized dinner. Are we expecting Dick?” It’s a joke, but he wishes his older brother, Mr. Metabolism, isn’t actually coming for a surprise visit.

She chuckles at that. “No. Although it _would_ do him good to eat _something_ like this, not the grease he preserves in his fridge.” She opens a pot and Jason peers in to see heaps of brown beef and their bones, vibrant vegetables and big cuts of tomatoes, all mixed in with the bubbling broth. It smells subtly like lemons and tamarinds—an exotic fruit Felixa had introduced him—and he can already _taste_ dinner just by looking at it. “It’s unfair how Richard’s got a sculpted bod and all he eats are fast food, while I eat like a proper omnivore, and I still have weight issues. How the fuck, right?”

Felixa’s usual affinity for avoiding saying ‘Dick’ always makes him chuckle and, of course, her light-hearted joke her point hits home. Petite and overweight, having three part-time jobs and with almost no sleep, Felixa has thrown her self-consciousness on her appearance out the window to focus on work, regardless of her health and overall state. But if it weren’t for her selflessness they wouldn’t have met…

“It’s gonna bite his perfect ass in the long run. You’ll see.” Jason wraps his arms around her waist, feeling her hips and butt press gently against his thighs. Yes, she’s fat, but he has to give her props for doing her best whenever they worked out together. That prominently _round_ butt isn’t from cosmetic surgery.

Felixa giggles and sways her hips, with him awkwardly swaying with her. Jason would’ve never imagined this future, but he’s here now, _swaying_ his hips with his girlfriend—in private, of course. “Imagine it, Jay,” Felixa teases. “Nightwing, going across Blüdhaven rooftops, with a harder pair of buttocks!”

“Bulletproof, too,” Jason quips as Felixa breaks into laughter. “For his sake. I’d shoot his ass if he ever invites us in his apartment with fried grease food again.”

“Aw, don’t. Poor Dickie is already the _butt_ of our secret jokes…”

Jason groans at the pun and decides to ignore that in favor of pointing out an amusing anomaly. “Oh! You said ‘Dick’.”

“One time only.” She asserts as he kisses the side of her forehead before he languidly releases her to continue with her cooking.

“Well, what’s with all the food, anyway?”

“Me, Dr. Pikalov, some of the nurses and the college volunteers are whipping up a big meal for a big charity event in Somers. Stephanie’s gonna come over tomorrow to assist me with moving these onto her van.”

As she explains, Felixa lifts another lid from a pot and shows him a delicious, gleaming pasta meal. “Don’t worry. I have enough food for the both of us for this week. You don’t have to be jealous.”

“I’m not.” On the contrary, Jason feels proud, to be next to _someone_ who actually gives a damn about the marginalized people. She meets his gaze and he feels a blush creeping up to his ears. He always liked looking into her warm, amber eyes, especially when she’s happy. “I’m gonna finish work. We’re following a lead on why Otisburg’s being hit by a lot criminals.”

“I’ll be here. The beef needs thirty minutes more.” They give each other a quick kiss before Jason goes to their bedroom to get to work. Felixa reminds him that he can snack on the wheat bread from the pantry, but he waves it off and tells her he’s willing to wait for the beef sour broth.

Jason picks up his laptop from Felixa’s vanity table and sits on a couch parallel to the room’s balcony; the view outside shows a different Gotham, to Jason, at least: rows of six-to eight-storey buildings—business or houses—all of which are either old-school art deco-styles or the usual mix of Pinkney’s Gothic-Victorian, now complete with that slight, dilapidated look, contemporary neon signs and urbanized flower gardens; but no sign of any recent violent explosion on their walls, sidewalks and curbs, no bullet holes, vandalism, no nothing…

Not even a scream from a neighbor, no suspicious gunshots, no patrol car blazing through the road, honking its horn or blaring its siren. Everything’s quiet and old outside; it’s unreal and peaceful at the same time. The quiet, calm side of Gotham…

_I’m glad this is one of our safe-houses._

Jason opens his laptop and checks the clock in it. 9:23 p.m. Making sure his own watch is synced correctly, Jason moves on to find two emails from Barb.

Opening the one called “Otisbug: New Lead-ish”, Jason finds copies of several new profiles of the targets he and Robin had apprehended; three of the targets are linked to a rising criminal gang from Bludhaven. _Dickie was actually right..._

Red Hood and Robin have generally been Gotham City’s main protectors now, since Batman’s ‘demise’, while Nightwing remained Bludhaven’s (they still have contacts from Bruce and Alfred, because Dick’s optimistic and Tim feels Bruce owes them all an apology and an explanation. They managed to find them just a few months after Halloween 2015, through encrypted communications and all. But Jason’s ‘content’ with the distance and that he and Alfred are alive somewhere. But he can’t bear to see them or talk to them, _especially_ Alfred).

Oracle, besides being their information broker, was best when she uses her social networking skills to contact allies to help in their investigation. It doesn’t help, however, when Nightwing’s flirting with a Bird of Prey, so they’ve come into an arrangement that either Robin or Red Hood’s paired with one of the Birds, unless it’s _completely_ necessary that Nightwing goes in. Her skills in persuasion also come handier when it came to dealing with the ‘wild cards’: Spoiler and Moneyspider, and whoever else is within their strange and _definitely_ foolhardy, but undeniably effective possé.

Stephanie and Moneyspider’s methods of vigilantism are unorthodox and accurately are the definition of asymmetric urban warfare, combined with other entities that work closely with legitimate Neighborhood Watch associations and online crackers from other parts of the globe. It’s especially important that every information Oracle receives are true, but it’s another thing entirely to persuade people with trust issues that what she and her family are going to do with the information isn’t going to be misused or handled with negligence. And with Oracle’s new reputation in the dark virtual world, it’s a miracle to have some grey-hat crackers and their brawn—such as Spoiler—are, in some ways, in a same league. Together, the three men and the Oracle work together with the Birds of Prey and Moneyspider’s possé, for the sake of the two cities.

In the past few months, however, Otisburg has become a new hotbed for criminal activity, linking various criminals from across the State to have a stake at the place, but no known motives are even clear as of late, besides the usual illegal activities they all have a fondness for committing.

Whatever they’re brewing up, it’s most likely a big one. Worst case scenario: it could probably topple the whole of Gotham City in its underbelly...or _worse-worse_ than that. _And the fact that they’re taking their sweet time is fucking pissing me off. GCPD is doing their best, but even when some suits from D.C. came in to interrogate some of those big shots that Robin and I took down a few weeks ago, they didn’t croak one shit. They did, however, carry with them phones that trace back to Riddler’s old hideout in Arkham City, and that still came up empty._

There’s no doubt that a new rising underworld gang from Bludhaven is building up a shitstorm, but being linked to Riddler? He had escaped a year ago, but he’s been too quiet. That’s saying a lot for an insecure, narcissistic genius who’s into painting the whole city with green question marks and rigging it with death traps. The only noise he’s created was also a year back, just a few days after his escape from Blackgate; Riddler had accumulated quite a following over the years prior his imprisonment, and they had been responsible to an attempted bombing on a Smithville-Gotham subway. _I’ll never forget that._

And then, this.

_He’s letting his cronies do all the noise, which is a surprise. Edddie Nigma’s always been working alone, using people like puppets to help set things up for him. What made him change his mind and team up with the new kids on Bludhaven’s block?_

Jason rubs his temples as he opens the second message. He’s too preoccupied with thinking about the Riddler’s possible motives to read Barbara’s other email, however.

The Riddler had, at least, been a big part of the Arkham Knight’s operation back in Halloween 2015, so it’s not untrue that Riddler’s always been a lone wolf, but he’s always thought of himself too superior to see how much of an asshat he is. Plus, teamwork wasn’t his forte, as that would mean working with _people_ he deems inferior or dangerous, both.

_Unless it’s with someone smart, someone he could at least see as an equal, but wouldn’t get too close with, otherwise Nigma would be literally tossed out of the game. He knows his best asset is his brains and he may have to strike a deal with someone who can pack him some brawns. Just some kind of twisted, long-distance relationship with the new bully…_

As painful it is to remember that Halloween, Jason recalls how he had to give Nigma some credit for being able to do what he does best while surviving a Cloudburst-infested city. He created distractions for Batman while the Arkham Knight— _him—_ and Scarecrow mobilized with their plans.

_It may be similar, but where are they? The traced calls lead to empty, abandoned places, infested with Joker toxins, decaying wood, pests, seawater...Plus, the crime scene was easily tampered with by either Riddler’s followers who was left behind, long enough to erase their presence, or someone from the inside...No, can’t be! Although I could always re-check what the investigators missed._

He closes his eyes for a minute, trying to rest his eyes for staring at the monitor for too long. Re-opening them, he finds the second email’s message clearer: “Robin Found Pyg’s Victims! New Crime File for Pyg!”

Attached to it were several photos of people cut open gruesomely and the _only_ video feed from a ‘functional’ security camera in Otisburg. Again, this bothers Jason…

And it isn’t just the fact that Tim is _really_ taking the Spring Break Week to his advantage. Heck, he even let his students out earlier than its usual dismissal time, just to get a head start.

_Robins gotta be early, or they’ll never catch the worms._ Jason lips smirk.

Professor Pyg is known for two things: his perverted ideals of what perfection is and how he can use his knowledge of his own hybridized skills of surgery and butchery, for his own purpose of ‘remodeling’ people into his own new creations.

The victims Robin found are _not_ Pyg’s usual ‘perfect’ cadavers, however. They all look like mutilated piles of every part of the human anatomy, looking more like mangled up pieces done by an animal, than a precision instrument.

_What in the hell?_

Jason looks up from his monitor to see Felixa, still busy around the kitchen, the living space and on her phone, engaged in a conversation. He couldn’t help the way his lips curl; he’s relieved that she isn’t coming to the bedroom anytime soon. He’d _hate_ for her to see _this._

He opens the file titled “Otisburg Terror” to add in it the photos, the video and details of Pyg’s crime. Examining the details Robin unearthed, this Professor Pyg really is back; he is, however, backed up with actual human cronies this time, not the usual enhanced army of Dolls he so lovingly perfected.

The video feed shows a grainy video of the old salon Professor Pyg had used back in Halloween 2015, only this time, he’s followed by several armed men. One of the armed men, however, appears to be threatening Pyg. A few seconds later, a truck drives near the old salon, which cues three men from the group to push Pyg inside the truck. With all of them inside, the truck drives away, coming a bit close to where the camera’s view is.

_An old Sugar Kreme Donut truck? They must’ve salvaged it. They haven’t been in business here in Gotham for ten years._

Jason groans out loud. He initially had the mood to work on these cases, but those two new things about the Otisburg Terror case is really dampening his spirits. Plus, he can feel his stomach slightly rumble and his lungs missing the burn of cigarettes.

_What the actual fuck is going on? Pyg was transferred to another psychiatric institution in New Jersey when they were finally organizing who to lock up in Blackgate. There had been no news of him being busted out of the institution. So, someone’s been greasing palms for Pyg’s release. But why Pyg? And then there’s Riddler, and his new Riddling army sneaking their asses around! And a new criminal gang’s going to do something bad, and they’re from Bludhaven, of all places!_

“Fuck this.” He meant to whisper those two words, but Felixa had stopped talking and is staring at Jason. She whispers a “hold on a sec” on the phone and quickly goes over to him.

Jason, on the other hand, is looking for his tin of cigarettes.

“Jason?”

He finds them in her vanity table’s drawer, camouflaged among trinket boxes. Felixa never really throws his cigs away, but _sometimes_ she has a way of placing the tin box in places that aren’t in the same place twice. She knows how hard it is to break habits, so she never admonishes him for it, but her cleverness _sometimes_ gets to him, so he _sometimes_ forgets about smoking and tries to predict, instead, where she’ll be hiding them.

_Sometimes,_ yes, he manages to be clean for weeks and find other ways to distract his itch for the taste of nicotine. His best distractions are work, Felixa and having to endure Barb’s video game winning streaks.

Today, however, Otisburg and its criminals are shitting on his brain right now.

_So much for a supposed good night, huh?_

“Honey, not now.” He isn’t mad at her, but his tone reflects what he feels about the stress in his investigation, and he feels a twinge of guilt for making her worry. No one can ever take change gracefully, but with these criminals behaving like they _aren’t_ themselves is somewhat short-circuiting Jason’s brain, and probably Tim’s and Barb’s, too. But maybe after a cig and a big dinner, Jason knows he’ll cinch them eventually, and maybe slam those criminals’ heads against concrete in the future, for good measure.

He procures his lighter from his jacket and flicks it open, lighting the cigarette like it’s second-nature— _which it is_ —and peers into the tin box. Five left. They’ve come from one pack of Philip Morris he bought back in December. He hadn’t bought any new ones and he’s not buying any until he finishes the last five. He’s saving them for really bad occasions.

With the cigarette on his lips, Jason does his best not to meet Felixa’s eyes and goes to her to give her a quick hug, then heads out through the balcony. A cool spring breeze coincidentally passes by and Jason exhales the first smoke he’s had since three weeks ago.

_Wow, thre—_

“Three weeks clean, now zero.” Her voice murmurs dryly from behind and Jason turns to see Felixa, cocking a brow at him, one arm folded under her armpit and the other arm has her hand holding out an ashtray. Her foot taps annoyingly at the sight of his sheepish face as he murmurs a “thanks” as he takes the ashtray.

“You’re welcome.” She says with a huff and Jason’s lips only smile further. She steps outside to join him and the breeze softly ruffles the hanging curls around her face and head. Jason stares at her as she tentatively steps forward to the solid brick balcony to look down below the street. He brings the cigarette to his lips again as his eyes follow the curves of her shoulders, her waist and hips, all the way to her buttocks and legs.

How could someone be this short be packing curves and legs in her small person? Jason rolls his eyes at the ridiculous question. Dick made a similar question like that before, to her _face_ even, which earned him a warning tone from Barb and a wide-eyed Tim. Jason had rolled his eyes, like he did just now, and was preparing for the inevitable silence that’s sure to follow. Instead, he had found himself laughing when Felixa snapped that she was born packing the ballistics on her and is just usual protocol.

_Glad to know I’m with a ballistics-carrier. Feel really safe…_

“I’m sorry,” He whispers after setting the cig on the ashtray. “I know you want me to quit.”

“You _will._ ” Her voice is soft, but there is a firm conviction in the way she said those words. “I swear, one day, maybe...when you feel Gotham doesn’t have to demand so much from you. I’ll get you out of here, even if you’ll protest, and maybe then, that’ll break the cycle.”

Jason exhales a stream of smoke and taps away the burning millimeters from the cigarette, trying to distract himself from the heavy feeling he’s getting inside. “You gonna carry me outta Gotham?”

“Bridal-style, if you want.” She snaps, turning to him with a quirk of her brow.

And just like that, a laughter bubbles from his lips and Jason’s heart melts. He stubs the cigarette completely from the tray, which he sets aside on the balcony table. He comes over to her and embraces her slowly, and she leans her head back on his strong shoulder. He peers down to see her face and she smiles softly.

She looks so cute and vulnerable…

Jason dips his face close to hers to place his lips on her cheek. Felixa gracefully drapes one smooth arm around his neck to tangle her fingers on his hair, all the while craning herself taller for him to continue his little gifts across her face.

Jason stops nibbling on her earlobe when she sputters a giggle; she’s ticklish around her ear area. He presses one last kiss on the side of her head before he murmurs, “I’m hungry.”

“Yeah?” She playfully pats his stomach, her fingers splayed across the hard expanse of muscles underneath his jacket. “Oh boy! Good thing the beef I got’s big! We _definitely_ need to feed these muscles!”

Her amazement and playfulness elicited a laughter deep from him, it sounded rich and boyish…

He still wonders, sometimes, how he’s able to produce that kind of sound, that it naturally frees itself from inside him to show him and anybody responsible for making him laugh that he’s genuinely happy. He owes being able to feel this to a lot of people…

“They’ll practically open up like some kind of mythical Japanese armor who’s hungry for souls.” He remembers an old-school game Barb had unearthed from her old home before her big move to the Gordon-Drake mansion. One of the characters in the fighting game was a cursed Japanese warrior wearing a demonic armor. Barb is, as usual, the _beast_ in the game, having perfected every character in the roster. Tim and Jason are both currently fighting for Second Place, while Dick struggles to even master his favorite, a green-haired busty succubus. Felixa manages to beat Barb once with her favorite, a fluffy sasquatch.

“Alright, alright, Mr. Ripped, lemme check the beef. I’m sure it’s tender by now.” Felixa untangles herself from his arms and pulls on his left hand to lead him inside.

“As tender as you?” It was his turn to tease.

“Oh, as tender as _you’d_ like it, Mr. Todd.” He swallows and he knows she could see his reaction. He could feel her playful tone dripping down him, eliciting _warmth_ …

Once in the kitchen, Felixa reaches for four spoons and gives one to him. He looks at it, perplexed, but the context hits him immediately. “You wanna taste test them for me?”

“All of them?” She nods. There was a few seconds of silence before he could answer. He was still not finished being amazed at her face and having the honor to taste-test all _four_.

“Sure.” He can still feel the blood warming his ears as he dips the spoon on the first pot. As he voices his opinion on each food (which isn’t much intel, just “it tastes great”, or “maybe some pepper...or don’t, maybe they like how the chicken tastes anyway. It’s nice!”), he presses himself closer to her. He feels her hand slithering between them to wrap her arm around his waist.

This oddly, and unfortunately, brings up that time, in the Smithville-Gotham subway, when they first met...

“How’s Mr. Mason?” He brings him up because the last he heard, the poor old veteran had to be confined for months in the Elliot Memorial Hospital after being shot at the leg by one of Riddler’s cronies. Felixa had been visiting the old man, but…

“His family actually moved him to where I work, in Somers. There’s a retirement home there as well, but the facility in Elliot’s was better. And expensive.” As Jason brings the spoon to his lips, he chews on the beef slowly, savoring it in his mouth. It contrasted the heavy subject; whereas he’s here, safe inside with his girlfriend, the old man of their topic is struggling with PTSD, waning health and mounting bills that needs to be paid. She continued. “Mr. Mason had decided he’s not gonna live in Bleake anymore, even though he feels he shouldn’t leave. But in his age and his health, he’s got no choice.”

Jason gives off a solemn sound as an answer, before swallowing the beef. “That beef is good. It’s...sweet.”

Felixa’s smile is full of pride, but it turns into a frown. “Why’d you bring him up?”

Jason shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know. I guess...you’ve talked about him before. We’re still looking for those terrorists that tried to bomb the subway months ago. We have leads and...I’m still working on it.”

Felixa harrumphs. “So the ones you caught wouldn’t talk, huh?”

“Paid not to, or scared not to. And Riddler’s leading the whole pack of them.” And just like that, rage threatened to bubble up. He exhales a breath, _hard,_ trying to repress it because there’s no need to be angry and there’s no need for it now. “The sonuvabitch is out there, biding his time.”

Felixa chuckles dryly as she presses a button on the electric stove, putting one burner to a boil. “Guess Riddler’s been a cult of personality these past few years, huh?”

“I think that’s an understatement.” The kind of followers Riddler has accumulated isn’t to be underestimated. Sure, there are far more dangerous criminals still lurking around Gotham, but sometimes the most dangerous ones have some kind of point to prove, that it didn’t matter that innocent lives will be endangered…

...he _knew_ that too much.

Felixa gazes up to him again and there is a quiet strength and faith in the way she looks at him. With her arm still wrapped around his waist, she begins to make gentle circles on the small of his back, soothing him to keep his worries for another day.

Sometimes he wondered, if he had decided to keep everything about him a secret—his vigilantism, his past, his family, the things he’s been through, the kind of _monster_ he had become and can be capable of—would she have stayed with him still? Would she have told the police who he _really_ is? Would she have killed him?

It wouldn’t surprise him if she did all that.

Back then, when they had been in that...well, in that awkward _dating phase_ , it was Felixa who had committed herself to him that she would keep his identity secret, so long as he is honest with her with whatever is going on with him and his busy vigilante schedule. He was surprised at her commitment to stay with him.

He had felt like he was being blackmailed, cornered to endure a sick joke, and he had darkly teased her about it; he meant to be light-hearted with her with a very bad, dark joke and should’ve probably turned her off, and he would be fine with that.

But she surprised him further with her own joke, by saying he could always shoot her if she ever failed in her end of the bargain. He had been so shocked to hear such brutality from a lady he’s trying to save from a disaster that is Jason Todd…

But instead her fortitude endured and she continued to love him, and he returned with his own love tenfold. He promised that he’ll keep his end of the bargain, because she’s worth it.

“Jason, sweetie?”

He’d been quiet for five minutes as he nonchalantly swirled the soup with his spoon. “What’s going on?” Her question sounded more like a parent who’s genuinely concerned for their child. “You can tell me.”

It was his turn to chuckle dryly. “Nothing. My head’s just going to different places. Sometimes, it’s in dark places…”

Her lips smile in concern and the hand resting on his waist slowly reaches to _that_ scar on his left cheek. He presses himself on her soft hand automatically, which he cups with his own hand, enveloping her delicate, brown hand with his own pale, scarred one.

“But I’m glad that sometimes, it’s in good places, too.”

Her smile widens, and he likes that. He’s basically praising her skills and her patience with him. His blue eyes flit from her own amber eyes to her delicate lips; she saw the way he was looking at her, and a pink blush forms across her cheekbones.

“Can I kiss you on the lips?” He asks. And yes, it’s so _cheesy_ and stupid of him to ask, but his brain is always trying to make sure she’s okay with a few things. 

She coquettishly turns away for a second, her eyelashes fluttering. She nods her head and adds, “But only a minute. I don’t want to overcook the fish on the other pot. I don’t wanna get _too_ distracted.”

That earns her a small and hearty laugh. “There’s no guarantee.”

With that, Jason wraps his other arm around her waist and he dips his face to hers, kissing her mouth. Felixa is _soft_ against his dry lips, tasting a bit like strawberry because of her lip balm. His fingers lace with hers for a moment as he guides her fingers to his hair, to tangle them however she likes. Jason’s other hand tentatively draws little lines on her back, just above where her buttocks are, a bit uncertain if he should touch her there, even though he _had_ a few times before. Felixa assures him by grabbing his hand and guiding him downward, emphasizing how he should dip his fingers there. She moans against his mouth and he responds with his own moan. He sounds so _boyish_ when he moans, compared to her husky, melodious ones. The kiss is deeper, their mouths open to accommodate one another’s desire to _taste_ the other. Jason is pretty sure his heartbeat is off charts, but he feels assured to hear hers is beating loudly against her ample breasts.

They separate with a loud smack; he can _feel_ his own pulse on his collarbone and the heat of his blush across his cheeks. He can see Felixa’s pupils are dilated and her lips curled mischievously at him. “Damn, we haven’t kissed like that since...probably the first time we did it.”

Jason swallows. _Oh, that time…_

“Probably. Yeah. I...don’t know.” He _does_ know. Jason remembers it _vividly._ He remembers her _skin_ against his own ugly mess he manages to call skin, but with her, Jason can feel how much she _cherishes_ him in bed.

And it’s _insane_ , really, how someone like him, a few years back, have finally given up on the idea that Jason Peter Todd could even live a normal life—or at least, could dip himself into it every once in awhile, when the cape and domino mask was put safely aside—and resigned his fate to solely putting himself in danger, everyday, along with his family, to keep a whole city safe, so its people could live normal lives.

He had resigned his dreams of getting formal education, of date nights and a farmhouse somewhere in Oregon, or a bungalow in a beachside, probably a monthly visit or two back to his family in Gotham…

He had resigned it _all,_ because being Red Hood is what he knows, what he’s capable of, and because not a lot of people could throw their lives willingly, for other people who’s suffered, who have been victims, who are dead because of unjust things. He shunned any ideas from Tim that he can balance a life with being just Jason, entirely separate from being Red Hood, because he and Barb can do it, so why not him, too, right? He mocked at Dick for trying so hard to date that certain redhead he’d been stalking on social media. Apparently, Mr. Perfect isn’t very good at finding Mrs. Right, but he’s too damn idealistic to see the consequences if she knew who _Nightwing_ truly is.

But damn, Felixa had turned Jason into the biggest hypocrite. Dick is now making fun of the irony and supporting their relationship like they’re some kind of internet OTP.

Felixa continues to twirl her fingers around Jason’s hair, which is full of cowlicks on his crown. He was never into styling his hair in any fashion, but he does his best to comb them in place, only to have them tangled messily because of her fingers playing around with them. “You’re thinking again…”

Jason snaps back to reality. “Huh? Oh...” _Yes, this_ whole _thing that I’m living in right now, it’s an insane idea to past-Jason, which is what I’m thinking. He would never have dreamt this...even if he could, it’ll all be buried beneath all those nightmares with Joker, and Bruce, and probably back when I was a rat in Crime Alley, stuck with my parents._

Felixa shakes her head as she sees him avoiding her eyes; with that one hand still on his cheek, she gently brushes her index finger on the length of his nose and “boops” her fingertip on the sharp edge of his nose. A half-laugh bubbles from his throat, but his smile widens again as they meet each other's’ gazes.

She looks at him with concern and love brimming from her amber eyes, her dark lashes fluttering slowly whenever she blinks; the lids on her downturned eyes are heavy, almost to the point of closing her eyes shut. She blinks wanly, opening her eyes to reveal his reflection on her gaze. He feels like he could dip his entirety to the amber pools of her eyes, with the floor slowly evaporating below him...the only thing that matters is her hand on his hair, her lips, her eyes, and her form pressed deliciously against him, pulling him with her to wherever they could go...

She reaches up to peck his lips lightly and she languidly, _completely_ separates from him.

“Time’s up. I need to check on each pot.” She murmured. Jason felt reality was still trying to slip back into his system.

“I’ll—I’ll prepare the—you know, plates and...stuff.”

And that he did.

A few minutes later, Felixa sets the pot for their dinner on the table and they eat. In most meals, he sits at the distance. On Tim and Barbara’s mansion, it’s so easy to sit somewhere that’s at least six feet away from them. In the years that had passed, he had gradually transitioned to sit at least two feet from the couple, three feet when Dick’s around, because his table manners are entirely a different beast. Ever since he and Felixa moved in Mrs. Omali’s boarding house two months ago, however, Jason is proud of himself to be sitting _next_ to the love of his life. It wasn’t quite the case when they were dating, but Jason’s making up for all those awkwardness and doubts. It was comforting and _real_ to have one significant person be this close to him. It’s a comfort zone he’s finally accepted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greg's words 04/17/17: The most painful thing about this story is researching where in the world is Gotham City located! I researched counties, the comic writers' "design" on where the city is supposed to be, how Rocksteady and Nolan's films further made it more complicated...in the end, I have come to the conclusion that Gotham City is San Andreas in the North-East coast of the fictional world.


	2. Cherished

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The break's over, but Jason feels an ache he hadn't been able to satisfy with Felixa for a long while now. Gotham can wait for twenty minutes or more, but their intimacy cannot...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greg-ster: While I was editing this story, I realized how loooong this whole thing was, so I had to cut it in two chapters, but mostly because I had time to 'polish' it further while I comb through my computer and house for my passwords. Anyway, everything is set and Bees is able to publish it, whoo-hoo! It's already in my Fanfiction.net, but it doesn't look as good, as it is here O___0. I posted it as one chapter there, as it's supposed to be intended.  
> This is the last one. Enjoy the NSFW and fluff in this chapter.

Jason, Tim and Barbara are just finishing up discussing and arranging the files about the Otisburg case. Dick is, unfortunately, in a middle of turning in a few late-night thugs, so he’ll be catching up later afternoon, in the Clock Tower. Jason made sure he was talking to them as quietly as he could. He didn’t want to ruin Felixa’s sleep for her work in the morning.

They had been going in circles about the leads, possible motives, new strategies to get inside. Without Nightwing’s own new intel about Bludhaven’s rising gang, however, they’re temporarily planning to get both Tim and Jason to disguise themselves so they can blend into Otisburg. If, however, Nightwing manages to be in the Clock Tower _in time,_ then they’ll easily rehash the plan.

Jason stretches his legs, trying to uncoil any stress he has left and relaxes on the sofa in the living room. After their dinner, Jason had offered to wash them while Felixa continued her conversation with her friend on the phone regarding their charity event. Since he had come home earlier than his usual patrol breaks, Jason knows he still has time in milking the whole night time for one more round as Red Hood to patrol, but only after he’s fully digested his yoghurt dessert and finishing the discussion and filing the Otisburg case all correctly.

The clock on his laptop tells him it’s 1:06 a.m. Tim is usually back in his mansion around 4 a.m. so he wouldn’t be late for his classes, but since it’s Spring Break, Tim could be re-patrolling again until 6:30 a.m, which means the two of them could likely go to Otisburg again. Or, Red Hood could check out Otisburg himself, while Robin can continue patrolling Gotham, since Robin had just gotten a new update on a string of convenience store robberies in Coventry.

Even though Barb’s still online, Jason could tell she’s already busy pulling up information after information for her husband’s case. He instead leaves her a typed-in message:

“ _Break’s over. I’m suiting up. Robin can expect me at 1:30 a.m.”_

He had just showered with Felixa a few hours ago and she has even prepared his sleeping clothes on the couch when he’s ready to sleep, whenever that is. She knows about the ungodly hours of Jason’s schedule, so it’s almost a pity for the two of them to never sleep together. Jason knows how she had been trying to get all the night shifts for her three part-time jobs so she could sync her time with his, but those are all unfortunately taken and would be hard to change or open a slot for her. Jason had talked to her that it’s best that she devotes her time to a normal clock, so that someone could be at home—well, _safe house—_ to just relax or update its security and do the chores.

Yes, he does chores, he likes their home clean, and he prioritizes it before sleeping.

“ _Besides, it’s awesome to wake up to see your face.” Jason isn’t sure if he sounds like he’s teasing or flirting, but he guesses it may pass as both. She chuckles. “Quite a scary wake-up call I am, all dark circles and bumbling around to even get my house shoes on! Like some sort of zombie.”_

_Jason pecks the top of her head. “No, you still look like an angel. And you smell like babies.”_

“ _Oh, right, I got tasked for looking into a new batch of orphans. Yeah, don’t be surprised if I suddenly smell like baby shampoo whenever I come back.”_

_He shakes his head at that. “Yeah, you already smelled like babies before you got assigned to that.”_

Getting up from the couch, Jason takes a peek through the slit of the slightly-open door before coming in. Through the opening, he can see Felixa sleeping on her right side, in a fetal position, her brown curls splayed across the red pillow under her head. Her guitar and music sheets lie at the foot of the bed; she had been strumming the instrument on a particular song she says she hasn’t finished and is nervous about the band practicing again two days from now. Jason can now see the exhaustion on her pretty face. Her arms are folded, but her hands appear like she’s trying to reach out for something, or someone, wanting it beside her, but all there is next to her is an empty space.

Pulling the door open, Jason steps inside their bedroom and comes closer. He sees the neatly folded cotton red shirt and shorts on the couch while he strolls towards her, walking beside her form on the bed.

Brushing tenderly away some curls from her cheek, Jason places a kiss on her cheek and whispers an “I love you” before moving to the closet. As quiet as possible, Jason opens the closet and pulls a two-foot wooden trunk from behind the built-in drawer, hidden from view by their combined hanging pairs of trousers, dresses and oversized tops. The weary, innocent-looking, unassuming World War 2 trunk, bought from a vintage shop and looking like it just belonged to either their grandparents, was remodeled to fit in his extra Red Hood gear.

_Always have extras..._

Reaching the vanity table, Jason pulls a metallic “stick” from among the makeup brushes on the vanity table and goes back to the trunk. Holding the trunk locked is Lucius Fox’s new state-of-the-art security lock that Wayne Tech may soon be releasing for other enterprises that need new hardware security; it was quite a privilege to have the prototype secretly, _for free,_ so it can help Jason in keeping his secrets and having a variant of it in ensuring Felixa’s home’s safety.

Pushing the most unassuming key inside its “lock”, the electronics inside manages to identify his fingerprint on the metal stick, and it quickly releases its mechanisms to allow its owner to open it. Pulling out the smooth, red helmet, Jason takes note that although his kevlar, a few selected guns and traversal tools maybe in here, he still needs his bomber jacket, the extra cartridges and smoke bombs in his duffel bag at the pawn shop.

Just as he’s dressing up, he could hear her stirring in the bed, even though she had only seemed to have lifted her arm an inch away to reach forward the empty space in the bed. He holds his gaze on her as Jason continued to suit up, putting on the kevlar on his torso, then buckling in the holsters and ammunition belt. He decides to take with him a dozen of Tim’s updated shuriken, in case patrolling GCPD’s wouldn’t add anymore reasons on his Wanted List. He finished buckling his knee pads on place and sets his Red Hood helmet to receive the updates from the Otisburg case files.

“Good luck,” Felixa murmurs before turning her head to see her boyfriend. “Be safe.”

“ _You_ be safe.” Jason whispers back as he strolls next to her again and kisses her lips. The smell of her clean skin and strawberry-scented shampoo that they both use is starker on her brown, soft curls of hair. It takes a lot of willpower to separate his lips from her, and likely more of it to completely leave her side.

There’s a pleading look on her face, telling Jason not to leave her, but she never tells him this. Not one peep of the subject, ever. Even if they both wanted to give in, they both know that’s not gonna work. This is a part of their life now, but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t set them off the edge.

It still perplexes Jason sometimes, but Barb and Tim are both managing it these last few years of their marriage. Sure, Barb and Tim’s relationship dynamics are different, as they’re both vigilantes, but it doesn’t rule out the fact that Barbara is still the one at home, at their safe house, inside security measures and armed with self-defensive tactics, while her husband is out there risking his life…

His and their relationship isn’t any different, but perhaps because Felixa’s civilian status gives them a vulnerable edge, a chink in the armor that’s gone through remodeling processes to make sure everything is foolproof, so they remain safe.

But Felixa’s smart and a realist. She _knows_ the double life he leads and, _fucking_ bless this woman, she would support him no matter what. And that hurts and encourages him more…

“You didn’t forget about the extra inferno spray, right?” Felixa asks, while she rubs gentle circles on his cheek, the majorly un-scarred one, at least.

“I was gonna ask you that.” Jason tried to sound reassuring. He _did_ forget he had that pepper spray (10x the usual pepper spray concentration), but it’s all the way back in Bleake. Oh well. He can get it, and permanently blind a drug dealer and a human trafficker after he procures it. “Keep your phone next to you. And keep the comms line open. I can replace the laptop, okay? So, don’t worry.”

“Okay. One can of inferno spray’s underneath the bed.” She delicately picks a sand in the corner of her eye, before continuing. “Say hi to Tim for me. I called Barb earlier, if she and her dad are going to Somers for the event. She won’t, but I’m cool with it.” Her voice is husky with sleep, it sounded so pretty in Jason’s ears.

“We’ll have a get-together in their mansion soon.” Jason isn’t that quite excited. It’s not that he doesn’t want to see them in a more normal, non-vigilante fashion, but it feels like any other get-together they’ve done in the past, anyway, it’s getting old.

It was the same way his family has been doing to try to reconnect with him and to get him to feel safe and welcome again. The triggers are all still there, but what’s changed is that the clips are empty and the guns are old, and they’re all being handled with care. So much care, in fact, Jason feels stifled with all the mushiness of it. He appreciates them for that, but sometimes he feels like he’s still being treated like a gun made of chinaware glass.

“And we’ll probably beat Tim to fight Barb for the High Score. Of course, if Mr. Metabolism hasn’t practiced his favorite vampire, we might have a chance.”

Felixa grins with a sleepy, bubbly laugh. Her eyes are clouded and heavily lidded, her brown skin almost bare for him to touch, with only the rumpled sheets and her rumpled night dress barring his way. Jason could feel an _ache_ somewhere, an ache that compels him to stay…

He checks his watch. 1:10 a.m. “Hold on a sec.”

He goes back to the laptop and sees Barb’s face on one of the online feeds. Both their audio are on mute and has resorted to typing messages on their encrypted chat board. She has attached new updates regarding the Coventry robberies. She smiles when she sees him on the camera.

“ _Robin has back up. Cash is with him. Nightwing is still quiet. Can’t reach him. Trackers are active and fine. He’s in Whaling Co. On the trail of the Rising Mystery Gang. How are you and F?”_

He types in a new message: “ _Good to know. I’ll re-handle Otisburg. If it goes south, I’ll be with Robin. If Nightwing’s goes south, I’ll be there, too. F is asleep. She misses you. Still in the safe house, though.”_

Barb sees the message immediately and unmutes her audio. “Look, Robin’s got the Coventry case. Cash is mobilizing 3 dozen squads on the area. We finally found the targets! If you want, Robin will catch up with you on the Otisburg case instead. Night’s adamant he’s got the Rising Gang under his belt. If you ask me, you and Robin can pester him before daylight.”

Jason smiles. He definitely still has time to do all of that. “Okay. Copy that. I’ll, uh, be heading out.”

The camera may not be on HD, but Jason could tell Barb’s knowing look through the monitor, her eyes glinting brighter than the reflection from her glasses. But she hid it quick with a chirpy smile. “Okay. I’ll let you know of other updates. Say hi to your GF for me!” And with another smile, Barb mutes the audio and sends a last message: “ _Good patrolling, Red! Don’t take too long!”_

Jason smirks at that one and begins to unlatch the ammunition and gadget belts from his person, all the while he strolls back to the bedroom.

“Are Tim and Dick gonna be fine?” Felixa had heard Barb from the laptop and the concern brimming in her amber eyes is effectively making the ache worse for Jason. “I...I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but Barb sounds excited. That’s a good sign, right?”

Felixa watches him casually unbuckle the holsters around his chest area with increasing bewilderment and he smiles. “Hm, well, she’s excited for her husband, but I’m more interested in getting you excited.”

This catches her attention.

Jason hoped he sounded darkly flirty and sensual, since it’s only often for him to make it sound right. On the rare occasion, Jason forgets he’s using his flirty voice while _still_ wearing the Red Hood helmet, and on their bedroom, no less.

As he succeeds in unbuckling his gear, he takes a look at his Red Hood helmet, perched on the couch right next to his sleepwear.

He had the mistake _once_ with showing up near her workplace, bringing her flowers, and a picnic basket with a pair of beer bottles and Alfred Pennyworth’s chicken and potato salad recipe he had learned long ago, still wearing his full gear and helmet because, a.) he’s paranoid for both their safety, but it doesn’t make any sense why he’s gone _near_ her workplace as _Red Hood,_ and b.) Jason was blushing non-stop, he probably looked liked a stupid, overripe human tomato from head to toe. To his credit, though, this was already after her shift and, using one of his disposable phones, he had texted her a brief, inconspicuous message about meeting him in a wooded area, just a few meters beyond her workplace’s camera’s field of vision. Only a squirrel will link a civilian nurse with the most brutal vigilante, that more than half of New Jersey wants behind a slammer.

Borrowing Dick’s car, they had picnicked near the Atlantic City’s bay area, closer to its wooded, non-urbanized area. Most people are dazzled by Atlantic City’s shopping districts, entertainment areas and blinding skyscrapers that could rival Gotham’s, anyway, so the wooded bay area was the best; from her workplace, all the way to the destination, he wore his helmet like it was life support.

Felixa never teased him of his unsaid choice for wearing the helmet, all the while she asked him gently about his life, comforted him when the silence became unbearable and supplied him with major bits about her own life (which he mostly memorized already, using Barb’s intel). She laughed at the slightly-dark jokes he managed to spout through the electronic voice modulator built inside the helmet. Only when she insisted she’ll feed him the salad he prepared, did he realize he hadn’t shown her his face on that _entire_ date. It was embarrassing, but she was patient with him and he found himself being rewarded with a nice helping of his salad with her delicate fingers, and a chaste kiss. It could’ve really been a bad day, but they managed to turn it around. She did that…

“You know, I’d head out, but something exciting could happen right in front of me. I don’t want to miss any of it”

Felixa’s largely bewildered amber eyes turns to affection, complete with a wide, dazzling smile and a blush across her cheeks. She laughs from the incredulous turn of the situation, then clears her throat to make a comeback. “Well, you’re all suited up for the _adventure_ , Mr. Todd. Might as well _delve_ into it, right?”

Felixa sits up and, with every sexual intention, positions herself to sit on the previous empty space meant for Jason to sleep into, with her legs flexing deliciously in front of him; the hem of her night dress hikes to her hips as she beckons him to join her in bed. But he simply stands there, gazing at her playfulness as a lopsided grin forms on his face; his body quivers on thinly-leashed restraint, trying vainly not to pounce on top of his lover.

Her laughter is deeper, reveling on seeing how he reacts to her. Lying horizontal across the bed, Felixa pulls on the guitar she had forgotten to put back in place and settles its curvy body in _between_ her large, delicious thighs. Jason swallows.

“So cute.” Felixa delights in seeing the apple on his throat bob deliciously.

She reaches out a delicate hand, thinking that she’s about to reach between her thighs, only for her fingers to begin strumming a deep melody on her guitar. Jason exhales a long breath of air, trying to release his distress for staying _so still_ through his nostrils.

As she strums the strings with her nails, she harmonizes the melody with a delectable moan from her lips, almost humming a tune. Felixa’s gaze smolders, her face tilted sideways that further illustrates her coyness; her amber eyes twinkle in the dim room and her eyelashes flutter like butterfly wings; her nostrils flare a bit whenever she inhales and her pink tongue slides innocently on her upper lip, peeking out playfully, then hiding quickly from his view; her teeth shows as she bites her lips and another moaning tune escapes her mouth.

“Fuck.”

Without taking his Red Hood suit, kevlar and boots off, Jason dives right next to her and wraps his arms around her shoulders with such intense possessiveness. His actions are met with more of her bubbly laughter and he continues teasing with little kisses across her face and neck. Prying the guitar from her and placing it almost on the same place she had left it on the bed, Jason replaces his whole body between her thighs, nestling his groin against hers. This earns him a gasping squeak from her wide, open mouth.

He furthers his presence by coiling underneath her one large, muscled arm to come around and tighten his hand around the back of her neck. He isn’t dominating her or asserting any pain, merely to pull her _so close_ Felixa won’t escape his hold.

As if she has any intention, with the way she groans her approval, and he smiles to see her deep desire for him.

They lie horizontal on the bed, with their arms wrapped around one another and their body heat mounting high. Jason wastes no time in pressing his lips to hers, letting her know how much he hungers for her by affectionately nipping on her plump lower lip and placing his hand on one round, ample cheek of her rear. Her fingers are splayed all over his hair for the umpteenth time, but this time she clutches and twists chunks of his jet-black hair. It’s encouraging, reining him to keep going with his mouth and his hands. Felixa has locked her legs around his hips, with one arm coiled possessively over his torso. Although still clothed with his thick suit, he can feel her clawing at his back, pulling him to deepen himself on her, despite their clothes still in the way.

Their kisses are ardent and passionate, sloppy even. The slickness of their tongues and inside of their mouths have found their way on their lips and chin. Unconsciously, Jason begins to thrust his hips against hers, and in turn earns him a rocking of her own hips. With his hand gripping her rear, Jason pulls her into a rhythm with his gentle thrusts. Each is met with a soft gasp, her mouth widening further to take in and let out a breath, but this granted Jason an opportunity to re-enter his tongue in her and delve deeper. And Felixa reacts with her own rocking, her legs pulling him and locking him in place, moaning against his bold kissing. He pulls away to give her half a second to catch her breath, then dips his mouth again to another searing, open mouthed kiss.

It’s all in the details of her body, her reactions, her _need,_ and he supplies her again and again with his mouth, his kneading hand on her rear, the press of their chests as their bodies coil and rub intimately, his boyish groans that answer whenever she mewls for more…

When Jason feels her quivering from head to toe, that’s when he knows a new threshold needs to be satisfied and he gently separates his mouth from her. Felixa instinctively tries to pull him back again, her fingers latching on his hair and her legs flexing to keep him there. “Don’t! Don’t...oh god…”

A chuckle escapes his lips. “Shh, I’m still here.” He soothes her by rubbing his palm from her firm rear to the curving expanse of her hips, and all the way to her warm, silky back; unintentionally, her night dress rumples from the back and forth soothing he’s doing, revealing more warm, brown skin.

He takes a quick peek at his watch: 1:14 a.m.

“Uh, aren’t Nightwing and Robin waiting for you?” Felixa’s voice is huskier and she swallows, trying to hydrate her parched throat. She had been moaning and gasping a lot, and he hasn’t even had sex with her yet.

“They can wait.” Jason reassures her, even though a questioning look clouds her pretty and flushed face. “You, on the other hand, shouldn’t wait any longer.”

And that again earns him a moan and a quivering, aroused female in his arms.

With his one hand still on her voluptuous rear, it languidly travels at the back of her thigh and delves _between._ His fingers leave a delicate trace of his touch on her skin. She watches his hand disappear underneath and feels his fingers pressing on her moistened underwear.

“You’re still wearing gloves.” She points out, but her tone suggests she had just found that out, not from being playful.

Deciding to play a little longer, he puts on a commanding tone. “Red Hood needs to check for some ballistics you could be packing in your person.”

Felixa laughs and slaps her palm against his chest. “Oh, Mr. Red Hood. I’ll let you know I’m always armed and ready! And I pack them _all over_ my body. You can check my breasts and you’ll find plenty!”

It was his turn to chuckle at the audacity of her sense of humor. “Oh, ma’am! You are trouble.”

“Keep searching, Red Hood.” She playfully goads. “But do be careful with your fingers. You might set one off and cause an explosion.”

Jason’s eyes twinkled wickedly and pecks a kiss on her forehead. He dips his fingers _further_ in and presses each gloved digit to her sensitive area, eliciting Felixa to claw on his chest and arching her hips to his fingers. He whispers, “Don’t you worry. I’m a _hands-on_ expert. Maybe a _few_ explosive demonstrations would actually do you good.”

Her body writhes against him and she is unable to snap back at him in time. He does, however, continue to press, pinch and grope her there. He continues his promises. “I’m very impressed with your array of ballistics here. I’m actually gonna help you fine-tune _every, little, detail_ , in ways I know you’ll find _very satisfactory._ ”

“Oh, fuck!” She keens and arches her whole body as his fingers work her to a vigorous rhythm. Her legs snap open to accommodate him further inside while her hands let go of her hold on him and, instead, goes to guide his playful hand to bring her to an end, and her other hand goes to cup her own breast. As their hands work on her moistness, Felixa’s body wriggles and jolt in an intense manner.

Jason growls at the sight of her _wanting,_ feeling his erection stifling inside his pants, but he presses on to give her closure, when—

His other hand lets go of her neck and reaches at the elastic band of her panties, pulling it away from her hips. With still a shred of knowing what else is happening around her, Felixa lifts her hips so Jason can pull the garment away. He doesn’t pull the material all the way, however; instead, he removes one hole from the garment away from her right foot and leaves the soaked material on her left knee.

His nostrils flare at the wonderful sight of her: dark curls of pubic hair frame her dark folds; moist and pink, and still being rigorously worked by her fingers, gloriously presented by her legs folded wide for him, while her knee wore her damp underwear; she lies with her bedraggled night dress, revealing her velvety warm brown skin and her glorious breasts; her disheveled brown curls of hair frame her face and neck exquisitely. Felixa’s eyes are intoxicating; when her mouth opens to speak, he sees a thin line of her saliva on her luscious lips.

“I want to cooperate with your endeavors, Mr. Red Hood.” Felixa teases, her voice dark and sensual, a femme fatale dealing him a bargain they both can benefit from. “I’m sure you’re familiar with this type of armament.”

“Oh yes.” He answers her with a deep growl, though a chuckle had also escaped. He’s glad she has given him personal lessons before on how to properly handle such a fine _armament._

Jason sits up and begins to remove the gloves from his hands, while continuing the roleplay. “But I’ll be using more of _my_ tools in completing my assessment with this one.”

She whines at the implications of his words and her fingers become much more _furious_ in working herself in front of him. Now with bare fingers, Jason pries away her fingers from her vulva and kisses her hands in reverence, before placing them gently on either of her sides. He places his hands on her hips and grips her in position, pulling her towards the edge of the bed as he moves. He kneels beside the bed, right in front of her spread legs and pink entrance, gripping her buttocks in a way that a bruise may form. He takes note of her silence, her bigger intake of breath, her amber eyes on him, her lips open slightly in awe and patience…

Jason’s wicked smile remains even when he places his mouth on her entrance. Felixa jolts in surprise, despite knowing what’s coming. The pad of his tongue licks the _entirety_ of her moist womanhood: her pink, wet folds; the shy, tiny clit hidden in the pink hood of skin that’s primed for more stimulus; the darker pinkness at the very center, where he can taste the warm lubrication. He hums at the way she tastes: soft and mildly tart skin, sweet-salty at the moist epicenter of her.

He thinks she smells like the clean, untouched beach he had once explored in Venezuela; the back of his throat signals a taste of sweet, tender meat and he laps his tongue over and over to get more.

Felixa’s whole body _convulses_ at every brush of his tongue. She no longer looks at the way Jason is performing between her thighs, though it would probably kill her if she did.

She gasps in surprise when the rough pad of his scarred fingers dips into her cleft flesh, the junctions between her groin and thighs. Rarely explored, the nerve-endings are sensitive there and his touch elicits a tormenting delight across these areas. Her Nursing Certification course has made her know the human body intimately, although under Jason’s _intimacy,_ it’s a delightful surprise when he explores and activates the right system for pleasure. She knows he’s trained and practiced with the body as much as she is, perhaps more for brutality than rescue, though used in sex is an entirely different, _satisfying_ matter…

...and the way his hands reflect his hunger for her, the way each digit presses firmly on her skin as if to hold her down and pull open to let him discover more; he alternates his hold with kneading both junction areas of her groin, then rubbing his thumbs across the expanse of her inner thigh. These are accompanied by his lapping tongue, then followed by a loud, loving suck on her inner folds, most likely already _dripping_ from her own internal lubrication and his saliva. Felixa does her best to let him know how _good_ he is, trying to make sensible words, but it’s mixed with sounds that she can only imagine are the wet dreams of porn star directors. And she can mentally slap herself for thinking up something like that.

But Jason joins her by moaning his adoration for her. He hums when his tongue sweeps, yet again, from the bit of skin below her genitalia, lingering across her folds, then _all the way_ to—

The half-keening, half-gasp that tore from Felixa’s mouth not only showed Jason how his tongue and sucking mouth has her at his mercy, but it had her body arching off the bed and forcing her look at his face again, busy in pleasuring her and taking pleasure from her.

He looks up from his work—both of his hands holding the junction between groin and thighs in place, his nose and mouth deep into her pink crevice—his blue-green eyes almost swallowed by his dilated pupils; he merely looks up and leave his position nor does he lift his mouth that intends to swallow her…

...but she can see the right corner of his mouth lift into a cocksure grin that has Felixa _reeling_ for a lungful of breath.

Felixa tries to string a couple of comprehensible words and manages to say, “Ah, oh… Oh, _Jason_ … you’ve gone, above and _beyond_ my expectations, Mr. Red Hood… oh, I… _youcanjustfuckmeandgetouttahere_ … _oh god…_ ”

Jason had to pull his mouth away from the tender goodness of her just so he can laugh his ass off of that one. The laughter that came out of his wide smile is _incredible,_ and it bounces inside him elatedly. God, how can something this wonderful be happening?

His sixth sense earlier was right. Something good did come, but it always would, whenever he and Felixa are together.

_Fucking bless this shit…_

“But you’re almost there,” Jason murmurs as he lovingly encircles the tip of his index finger on her left inner thigh.

Again, she gives him a bewildered look, but he only answers with his mouth, working her to her rapture. And she whines in protest, which immediately becomes her whining for his lips to keep sucking, licking, brushing his tongue on her sweet, tender folds.

He adds his index finger inside, careful not to inflict any pain. She jolts at the sign of his finger entering and sighs in relief to feel it gently coaxing her anterior walls. While he distracts her with his mouth, Jason slightly pulls the same finger back to follow it with his middle finger.

Felixa hisses and bites her lower lip as she feels two fingers inside her anterior walls, gentle in their exploration. Soon, however, Jason pulls his mouth from her for a second; eliciting a small, worried gasp from her, he understands that she thinks he’s done. He proves her wrong by gazing up at her once again, grinning his signature lopsided grin and _dips_ his two fingers further. Felixa’s gasp is short, as that is all she feels…

...until he _pushes_ both fingers down, eliciting a heavy pressure at the floor of her vagina, and she _mewls_ at the top of her lungs. It’s a siren’s call to Jason’s ears.

With a gentle rhythm of pushing down and pushing forward across her pliant vagina, he follows this with his warm mouth and continue to lick and suck her again, only this time intent on giving her the high she needs. No longer teasing, the consistency of his rhythm begins to ascend into an intensity that Felixa can feel as being thoroughly _fucked._ With her hooded clit and upper parts of her folds continuously suckled, Felixa feels the strength of the pressure deep inside are building dangerously.

Alternating from looking down to have some sexual visuals and rolling her head to a lull as she surrenders to Jason’s fervid actions, Felixa can only guess that Jason is practically using his _entire_ arm in coaxing and pushing pressure inside her, with his fingers as the delivering point.

And as expected, Jason can feel the tremors across her lower body, bringing her back and rear arching up again and her mouth open wide to scream the impending ecstasy.

With only her incomprehensible words fumbling out of her lips as a considerate warning, Jason coils his free hand upward and grips a fistful of her right breast as his only leverage, but also to incite the incoming climax. His thumb strokes the soft and dark areola, and the peeking nipple in his grasp. Her continuous high-pitched whines and her straddling of his head encourages him, and he throws all efforts in getting her to finish.

When the writhing finally comes all over to possess her, Felixa is left in her own body’s responses as she feels the powerful, _throbbing wave_ drown out all thoughts and senses, feeling only his mouth and fingers in assisting her rapture…

...over and over, and _it won’t stop!_

A long, drawn out cry escapes her as her climax continues. Felixa can feel her walls uncontrollably pulsate, rendering her squirming under his hold. She finds purchase in clenching the rumpled sheets of their bed as she _soils_ it with her liquid arousal. And his fingers _won’t stop,_ eliciting more from her than she thought she didn’t have. His deep fucking on her, _inside her,_ draws out a few more of that throbbing pleasure and overflow of arousal.

Taking note of her arching body, Jason does his best to keep her in his mouth and continue the rhythmic exertions his fingers are bringing. Her legs quiver and open wider for a moment and then, almost the same time as when he felt her walls clench on his fingers, fold to trap his head inside. Her hips sway and turn violently, and he does his best to hold on, but he loses it when he tastes _her,_ dripping warmly and profusely from her pink core. Nestled within her thighs, she gives him a ride as she keeps thrusting to his mouth and fingers, which continue to delve into her, coaxing out all of her sweet juice to flow further. He moans as he laps up the liquid that’s coating her vulva and his fingers, feeling her clenching walls subside.

Slowly, Felixa floats down from that high and gracefully feels the lull of exhaustion, sweat glistening across her face and body, making her disheveled curls stick to her skin. A satisfied sigh escapes her lips and Felixa could taste something, a deep sweetness at the back of her mouth as the afterglow settles in her whole body. Oxytocin, serotonin, coconut water… whatever, it tastes _almost_ like coconut water, with those two chemicals being _definitely_ involved…

“Fuck yeah.” Jason whispers as he plants the last kisses on her genitalia and carefully pulls out his fingers. Settling her legs down to relax, he clambers up and positions himself over her, trapping her within braced arms, with one folded up to show his two fingers coated in her climax. She watches through lidded eyes, mesmerized as he puts his fingers inside his mouth and sucks it clean.

One, small mewl comes out from her mouth, followed by a shiver across her body. He grins at the way she reacts, but it was wiped away when she unexpectedly pulls him down to kiss him. She tastes herself when her tongue laves across his lips and teeth, and she moans at how unbelievably delicious oral sex is on Jason’s mouth.

1:20 a.m…

Barb’s going to give him another knowing look, a very _knowing_ look that he’s never going to see the end of, unless the gravity of the crime is so great, even Dick will stop trying to find out why Barb’s giving him that look. Tim simply _knows,_ and he seems happy for Jason, and Jason can respect the acknowledgement alone, without anymore probing, thank you very much.

Hopefully, that doesn’t happen and he can survive a sex pun-free investigation when Barb gives him intel. Hopefully…

Jason stands from the bed to get free from her seductive cuddling. He does his best to get his clouded mind back to reality, even though his erection is telling him otherwise.

“Don’t go.” She’s practically begging. He _loves_ it when she begs, because he can’t help but give her a big helping of what they both want. But he stays rooted to the spot, gearing up again for patrol.

He doesn’t say anything, not even to tell her how he does need to go, because he knows his voice is going to betray him, and his erection is already doing that job, so—

Felixa was unexpectedly quick when she sits up to cup one hand on the bulge of his pants. The warmth of her palm is _fucking exquisite_ and he hisses, almost dropping his ammunition belt. “Let me help you finish.” She pleads, her voice breathy and her form already sitting perfectly on their bed, aligned for pleasure. “It’ll be a quick assessment. I _promise_.”

And Jason _gives;_ he soon finds himself being pulled towards his lovely siren, with one delicate hand on the band of his buckled pants. With her coy smile, Jason lets her unbuckle the belt and unbutton the fly, watching her being so invested in giving back pleasure. He groans when he feels her softly palm him against the fabric of his clothes before carefully pulling the zipper down.

He joins her hands in pulling down the front of his pants; comically, the tip of her nose bumps at the tip of _his_ _head_ as he springs from his pants and protective underwear, inciting another bubbly laugh from her mouth. With said mouth just a few inches away, Felixa immediately places her mouth on his pink head, grinning from ear to ear at the deed she’s doing. A groan escapes from Jason’s lips as he presents himself to her, but he cups her chin to stop her mouth any further for now. With his last shred of conviction, he manages to say two words: “Two minutes.”

Her lips are still moist from their kissing and having tasted her own arousal from his mouth. He probably still has a lot of the evidence across his face, but isn’t that what smooth red-domed helmets are for?

Her moist, luscious lips forms an alluring smirk, his _favorite_ kind of smirking on her face. Her amber eyes gaze darkly through her eyelashes while she descends upon him, keeping her expression dark and provocative.

Jason couldn’t tell which came first, her tongue or the dripping line of moistness inside her mouth…

In the end, it didn’t matter, because the head of his penis disappeared inside her mouth and he can only hiss and gasp at the warm sensations that _coil_ around him, with the one-third of his length deep in the lascivious sounds of a swirling, wet tongue.

Jason’s head lulls back as his hips thrust haltingly towards her mouth, with his hands either cupped behind her head to grasp her curls or tenderly tracing the skin of her bare neck. He’s still careful not to push too hard, not wanting her to choke or in pain; he trusts her in giving him an enjoyable ride.

Felixa moans at every dip she takes, her mouth going half his length as her limit. She’ll deepthroat him next time, when they do have more time with each other. Right now, giving him an oral quickie will mind-blow him enough, but not run him down basking in afterglow during patrol… at least, she thinks all he needs is an oral quickie.

Taking his shaft with a her left hand, she grips his length and pumps him in time with her rhythm. Her right hand splays on the bit of skin and pubic hair presented by his open pants. Every bit of his flesh is covered with scars; although he had once (and still do, if triggered) felt like an ugly, marred excuse of a young man for having scars, Felixa sees his skin as proof of his strength and his vitality. He may have ounces of disbelief left in him at such a perspective, but _damn,_ he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t feel so cherished and _needed_ under Felixa’s ministrations.

He sighs softly as he feels the juxtaposing sensations of her warm, silky hand soothing his skin, across the creased junction of his hips that lead to his defined groin and even sneaking underneath his suit, letting her feel and enjoy his flexing pebbles of abdominal muscle as he takes his breath; and the vice-like grip of her pumping hand, aiding her mouth in pleasuring him in wet suction. Jason is suddenly transitioned to irregular gasping as Felixa moans and giggles on his length, likely taking pleasure in seeing him unfurl his hard exterior, turn putty and needy for her.

Felixa likes how he tastes; a simple, clean and salty taste, smelling faintly like clean strawberries from their shower earlier. His texture is smooth, save a thin vein under the shaft; he is soft and plump, more width than length, but the firm erection adds to the weight, and she delightfully struggles in swirling him with her tongue. Jason is also _very responsive_ inside her mouth; he twitches inside when her tongue explores the bit of foreskin that reveals his pink head, sensitive and rich with nerve-endings; as a result, a high-pitched sound escapes his wide mouth, adding his vocal praise for her attentiveness. She laughs and the vibration aids her pumping on his shaft, and this makes him swallow hard. Deciding to be consistent and to finally free him of his misery, Felixa pumps and plunges his penis a little deeper, forming her mouth to tighten around him.

“Urgh, _fuck,_ that’s good…”

Jason gazes down to see her and _how_ exactly he is succumbing to such a tight and vigorous rhythm. Of course, the sight of her mouth formed into a tight orifice of pleasure and her eyes closed in tight concentration, his gripping left hand at her curls at the back of her neck is a masterful piece of pornographic art; and all Jason can do is bite his lower lip at his helplessness of this wonderful situation.

Again and again, Felixa plunges his length through her lips, doing her best to sync her pumping with the way her loud sucking could take him. He _deserves_ such praise and physical adoration; with that, her right hand smoothly ventures from his muscular abdomen, across his hard hips and then _behind_ him, delving inside his open pants to take a handful of his solid rear. Her nails dig lightly at the skin there, strangely a little smooth than the rest of his body. She moans as she dips languidly this time, enjoying his ass cheeks on her palm as much as she enjoys his delectable stiffness across her tongue. Predictably, Jason grows a bit larger inside her mouth and a line of dribble bubbles from the corner of her mouth, trickling down her chin.

Jason feels her hand on his butt push him closer to her, wanting to have him deepen himself further. At this point, his further hardening erection is signaling an unfathomable hunger and his incoming climax, but Jason has other plans.

As she continues her feverish rhythm with her mouth, Jason pulls her by the hair he’s gripping her and away from his penis, earning him a disappointed mewl and a wet pop of her lips separating from him. “Jason, wait!” She’s still gripping him and he grins at her desperation to pleasure him, but he reassures her with a kiss on her forehead and a whisper, “Shh, we’re definitely not done yet.”

Grabbing a pillow, Jason tosses it in the middle of the bed. “Lie on your stomach, on top of that pillow.” He was neither commanding or requesting, but Felixa eagerly follows. She lies on her front with the pillow underneath her and she quivers in anticipation. Jason pulls open the drawer of their bedside table and pulls out a condom.

“I must say, I’m satisfied with your cooperation so far,” Jason murmurs as he climbs on top of her on the bed. His eyes rove appreciatively across her womanly form, curving and fat, with wide hips and a tapered waist; a crease of skin forms as her love handles and downward, her ample rear curves proudly and invites him to touch. He palms one cheek and the resistant flesh signals her firm muscles underneath. He lets go of her, only to whip his hand across one firm cheek. She cries loudly, but she shuts her mouth quickly, replaced with irregular breathing. “But you would be right that I want a more _thorough_ assessment. I don’t want any hidden agendas.”

Jason brings his hands across the smooth plain of her back and coils his hand around her neck. He brings his face next to hers and shows her his darkly magnetic grin. “I feel as if you’ve gotten a little too much from our partnership. But what’s your say on the matter, hm? I’m a very willing listener. I’m sure we can come up with another compromise.”

Felixa grins this time and finds her coquettish voice. “I know you still have places to be. How about we fulfill _your_ agendas, in your way, and I’ll do my best to help you finish. Please. I’ve shown you how good I am...”

He swallows and he tries to keep his grin, but Felixa could see through him. He has to give her props for keeping up with the roleplay this far, and he’s sure to reward that. “Hmm, you sound too eager for it to be good...”

“If this is your way of asking for a permission for a rough quickie, it’s making me impatient, Jason!” Felixa hisses and Jason laughs. _She’s reached her limit._ “Just, let’s just fuck, please, I’m begging!” To further prove that effect, she arches her voluptuous rear for him to have and enjoy. He slaps the globe of flesh presented to him, earning him a cry and a perfect visual of her buttocks jiggling from the impact.

“Yes, ma’am.” And with that, he braces himself on top of her, guiding his erection between her thighs. “I’m going raw first.”

“Okay,” she breathes out and twines her left hand with his. It’s a small, captivating gesture that Jason loves about whenever they do this. Her hand finding his for assurance, as proof of her desire and affection.

His tip finds her moist core and, using his fingers, lubricates his length to ensure a smooth entrance. Jason plunges in and Felixa meets him halfway by bracing her knees and lifting her hips an inch from the pillow. A half-gasp, half-sigh of relief escapes both their lips, finally coming together after giving each other such vigorous foreplay.

They kiss profusely as Jason makes the first move inside her, breathing in air through his mouth as he feels her pliant and open, her walls still abundantly wet with arousal. He pulls away and feels her soft ridges at her anterior, which in turn makes her quiver and unable to kiss him back. Pushing again, her hips arch back to meet him and she moans against his earnest lips. The pace is safe and slow, but she goads him to the rhythm he wants and she reassures him how much he had satisfied her already, and that it won’t hurt as much. And he does build the pace, thrusting in her with such carefree abandon.

With her eyes heavily lidded, Felixa’s sight is blurred, save for the only focused picture of their hands still twined on top of the rumpled sheets; her breathing tunnels through her open mouth, with each exhale accompanied by her moans, sobbing and even a purr. With his pace still measured, it is undeniable how _good_ he feels—how good his erection feels inside her. Every measured stroke proves the firmness of his penis and her vaginal walls has her _clinging_ futilely for him to stay still so she can delight in him. If he does still his movements, she’ll be left squirming for him to move, but at the same time, cherishing the weight and texture of his penis until he comes undone to her tightening walls.

_Oh…_

In her prone position—underneath a large, burly young man who is slow fucking her—Felixa is left in his ministrations, finding his own way with her on how he’ll climax. She bites her lower lip at the reality.

“What are you thinking, hm?” Jason has been watching her expression, keen in observing her as he makes love. He stops for a moment in his pumping to dip his head again right next to hers. Finding this opportunity, Felixa clenches her walls and whines joyfully, eliciting a grunt from his mouth and burying his face on her curly hair.

“Oh god, you’re _so hard…”_

“Jesus, fuck, oh Felixa, I wanna make you cum again before I go!”

_Oh, that’s what—_

“That’s—Jason, that’s so sweet of you.”

Another grunt escapes him as he feels Felixa’s walls clench _twice_ on him. To further him to the climax he’s still restraining, her hips swirl, as if she’s dancing, pressing her round globes of buttocks against his exposed pelvis, all the while his erection is stuck between her voluptuous, warm skin. He feels her walls clenching languidly around his helpless erection, swarming him to unload.

_Two can play at this game._

He braces himself again and, without warning, pulls away from her _entirely._ Felixa whines at the disappearance of her plaything and chases after him, rocking forward her rear to present herself. A full two seconds without his penis inside her has her writhing in her position: her elbows propped, her hips and rear presented high and her face _wrecked_ in wanton desire for fucking.

Only then does he swiftly bury her to the hilt. And they both sob for consummating each other again.

He had let go of her left hand when he left her, but this time he wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her upright. Still fully engorged on him, Jason pulls the straps of her night dress away from each of her arm, but not fully divesting her of her clothing. Her panties are still clinging on her left knee, so the rumpled night dress stays on her as evidence. With her brown skin exposed and glistening, Jason cups her right breast first, then hungrily grabs her left breast, feeling each velvety weight and softness in his palms. She cries both in pain and lust, relishing his roving hands in _gripping_ her hard. He harshly teases each nipple with his fingers, making her head arch back against his strong shoulder, exposing her neck that he so immediately afflicts with a marking kiss. His rough hands won’t stop their delicious, wanton agony across her breasts and his mouth won’t stop their suction on her flesh, and all she can do is coil one arm around to tangle her hands across his tousled, jet-black hair and cry in pain.

With both of them kneeling on the bed, Felixa straddling his hips and thighs, her legs are lewdly spread open as her dewy folds welcome his fully-engorged cock from behind. Jason lets go of her neck and she takes lungfuls of air as the searing pain of a hickey forms on her neck. He soothes her with adoring kisses across her face, and complimenting her sweet body against his. Felixa is unable to answer, as all she can do is gaze upon his handsome face and _melt._

Gripping one hip, Jason lifts her up then roughly pushes her down on him, over and _over and over and over,_ rendering her a squirming mess within his grasp.

The sound of his skin hitting hers fills their bedroom, accompanied by Felixa’s incomprehensible praises of his carnal lovemaking. Doing her best to help, she uses her kneeling position as a way to bounce her hips to meet his upward thrusting. She would’ve wanted to brace her hands on the mattress to further support herself while he ravages her, but he wasn’t letting go, not even when she begged. His hands are possessively wrapped across her breasts while the other has her hip on a death grip in aiding their sex. It doesn’t give her the favor as well when her own arm is entwined across his hair, encouraging him in his fucking her.

Felixa might as well enjoy the ride…

Jason _loves_ her and his body _starves_ for more. He impales himself furiously, holding her tight to him and burying his face on the crook of her neck, smelling her perspiration and finding her scent so good. Every hard stroke he gives leaves her breathless and moaning, writhing in his arms, but soon he’s grunting his own pleasure. He finds himself hardening a bit more against her warm, glossy walls and he knows the inevitable is approaching.

Oh God…

“Felixa, baby, wait, I—”

The panic in his voice wakes her from the sexual high she’s having and realizes the condom is missing. _Oh, but his unprotected penis feels so_ _good…_

“There, there!” Felixa fumbles her left hand to reach for the condom that was unknowingly placed near her forgotten guitar, a silent witness to an almost unprotected copulation.

As she reaches for it, she feels the whole brunt of Jason’s weight behind her and she soon feels the whole bedroom shifting around her; gleeful laughter bubbles from both their mouths as Jason tumbles them on the mattress on their sides. Still inside her, Jason lets her go as she reaches on the red rubber plastic. Jason takes this time to admire her back as he relaxes; there’s growing definition of muscles across her shoulders and her thick arms, while her soft waist shows creases of her fat on her stomach. The curve of her hips is a _phenomenon_ and he wonders when he’ll plant a hickey there…

And then below, where his penis is still engorged from behind her, her buttocks are a pair of proud twin globes of femininity. He exhales a sigh of relaxation as he watches her tear the packaging of the condom. “Here, it’s open.”

He accepts it and feels regret when he pulls away. He sits up as he makes sure the red rubber properly covers his length. She takes a long breath as she relaxes on the mattress and he takes a second to admire her body again, and he smiles.

“Like how it’s going accordingly, Mr. Red Hood?” Felixa playfully cups her breasts at him as he gently pulls at the tip of the condom, ensuring a place for his semen. He surprises her when he dips his face on her breasts and plants an open mouth kiss on one nipple.

“Very.” He murmurs after he lets go of her nipple with a smack of his lips.

Grabbing one breast as he instructs her to lay on her side, he takes his position behind her, gripping one cheek of her rear as he penetrates. Felixa’s quiet, open-mouthed expression is beautiful as he fills her to her hilt once again.

The sensation of smooth silicone wrapped around his warm cock adds an entirely different dimension as he fills her, but Felixa takes it no heed as he begins his pace. Spooning her, Jason coils his arm underneath her waist and brings it up between the valley of her breasts to hold her neck, pulling her close against his torso.

The juxtaposition of the level of their clothing dawns on Jason as his other hand kneads her hip, his fingers coming across the rumpled fabric of her night dress, still wrapped around her stomach; her underwear clings desperately on her left knee, while its owner is vulnerably exposed and glistening as she makes love. He, on the other hand, is still fully dressed in the grey and red suit of his vigilante outfit, covering a kevlar vest underneath, but his pants are left wide open and pulled down below his rear, still with his boots on.

“I like that we didn’t really took our clothes off, y’know,” Jason whispers, his breath puffing a few of her brown curls. She turns her head to try to see him behind, but that adds to her vulnerable allure. “Just straight to business. _Fucking_ lovely.”

He feels her clenching and if her whimpering and her shaking hips are any indication, they’re almost at their peak. He can’t take it anymore, either.

The way they pick up the ante bounces across the walls of their bedroom, as the obscene sounds of their flesh making frantic love, incomprehensible words of praise for the other and their creaking bed mounts to a dangerous level of waking a neighbor below… as if _that_ hasn’t been the case during foreplay.

And once again, the throbbing possesses her body and she _writhes_ in his hold, crying for the delightful explosion inside her. Felixa’s halting sobs are long, and so is her tensing walls; glossier and _slicker_ now that the rubber protection makes futile friction inside her. Her climax is always different with penile penetration: deeper, if not a bit painful in its first wave, until an onset of more powerful orgasms surge within her, leaving her to twist and throb with every thrilling outburst.

But Jason isn’t far behind. Having enjoyed her a lot, her climaxing walls flexes around him, urging him to unload his own unto her. His abdomen clenches and he swallows, realizing his irregular rhythm into her, snapping his hips to her soft flesh uncontrollably. He knows he needs to surrender to his greedy lust. So he tightens his hold on her and pulls her close as his hips buck wildly, hard and fast; he throws his head back as a gut-piercing grunt frees from his mouth, while he displaces his climax, joining her in her prolonged writhing. She fumbles between her thighs to caress their climaxing sex; finding her copious wetness on her folds and on his pulsating length, Felixa squirms her last climax out before languidly coming down from her peak. It’s unbelievable how his hips won’t stop bucking as he empties himself on the rubber, encouraged by her wiggling butt as she finishes herself.

Still holding her close, Jason swallows and he finds his throat a bit parched. “I love you.” He murmurs sweetly and she answers with an affectionate sigh. He inhales her scent in one big intake before he sits up, refusing to let afterglow take a hold of him there. He had already indulged himself for too long; it’s time for work.

1: 29 a.m.

Still ‘wearing’ her nightdress, Felixa pulls her soaked underwear and tosses it on a laundry basket near their bathroom door, then strolls towards their closet to rummage inside its drawers. Pulling on the sticky condom, Jason carefully wraps it up and tosses it on the waste bin; he then procures his Red Hood gear as he straightens himself up. Before zipping himself back inside his pants however, Felixa stops him and insists he wipes himself clean with a towel first. As he does so, she proceeds to wipe his hair and face of any sweat and arousal sticking on his face. The way she gently pats away the evidence is alluring in of itself and he finds himself mesmerized as he lets her have her way. “You need me to wipe your back?”

“Yeah, okay.” And he removes his upper clothing for her to wipe his excess sweat there. And it feels sweet that she does this. “Thank you.” He murmurs as he pulls his clothing back and zips up.

Felixa is quick to find his belt to buckle his pants, while he works on strapping and buckling the rest of his gadgets and weapons. Finally, Felixa grabs his helmet from the couch and hands it to him.

“Put it on my head for me, would ya?” And it’s completely unnecessary to ask her that since he’s done in checking his guns are in place and his gloves back on his fingers. But he wants to milk it, he wants to feel so cherished.

And she obliges. Standing at the edge of the bed, this petite woman carefully places his helmet on his head and ensures it slips on smoothly. As the base of the helmet finds its place around his jawline, she tries to find the button at the back of his helmet, only for his hands to wrap around her wrist.

Stepping closer, Jason once again wraps his arms around her, tightening at her waist. She smiles lovingly at him and coils her own arms around his neck, cradling his face to hers before drawing him to a kiss. Still haphazardly naked with a night dress hanging below her torso, Jason indulges on her exposed brown skin, feeling her warm and svelte in his arms. Her succulent lips presents him their combined flavors and he trembles for a moment at how exquisite she is.

“Oh God, I’m...I’m late. I’m sorry.” He really needs to leave. “I love you.”

“I love _you._ ” Felixa affirms this with her caressing fingers on his scarred cheek. “And I won’t forget about the inferno spray.”

And with a comical grin, Jason pecks her one last kiss and untangles himself from her. Pushing the button on his helmet, Red Hood comes alive. The built-in monitor scans their safe house’s security and updates on Coventry. Apparently, Robin _is_ doing very fine…

“Rest.” He tells her as he pulls the now heavily-curtained balcony door open. “You’ve work later. I’ll cook you a mean breakfast when I get back, I promise.”

Her laugh is melodious, but he soon slides the balcony close after leaving their safe house, and he is unable to see her changing her night dress, nor in getting up to properly place her guitar inside their apartment. Grabbing his grapple gun, he shoots it to latch onto the dark pawnshop three blocks across their boarding house and, activating it, propels him to its rooftop. With the wind knocking him into cold reality, Jason pulls himself up from its ledge before looking back at their apartment. The helmet flashes green words across his view, indicating their safe house—his comfort zone, her home, their little haven smack in the middle of this city full of chaos—is locked and secured.

And just like that, Red Hood’s focus comes back like lightning. _Priorities._ His inner voice sounds a little annoyed for having to be back to vigilante work again as Barb refills him on Robin’s Coventry mission and new info on the Otisburg case. As he had anticipated, Barb is punishing him with sex puns every chance she gets, as he did promise to be on patrol exactly at 1:30 a.m. Looking at his time, it’s already 1:34 a.m. He knows he deserves this…

Somehow, his ridiculous, sometimes-pragmatic ‘sixth sense’ worms its way into significance, telling him that the Mystery Gang that Nightwing’s after is going to create a big show on Gotham before they can apprehend them; and maybe GCPD and him may only see eye-to-eye on one thing only, and that’s inflicting mild torture on Riddler’s cronies for information; and perhaps, their next get-together isn’t going to be too awkward, so long as no one in the family brings up anything mission-related, but he can count on them for coddling him to the point that he’ll lock himself behind one of Tim’s mansion’s guest rooms, preferably until they can convince him otherwise, or with a video game challenge regarding beating the tar out of them (except against Felixa, he’ll let her win all the time, even though she’d protest)...

...but at least he has found some semblance of normalcy around here, and someone worth keeping, preferably for a very long time.

“You know,” Barbara teases from the comms. She managed to unlink the two boys out of the conversation for now as she rips out sex pun after sex pun. “You haven’t taken Felixa out to try your grapple gun. I know you’d carry her around like a princess, but I bet you two _grapple_ around privately already.”

Jason groans. “Barb, that… that was fucking bad!”

Barb’s laughter is hilarious and he stifles his lips as best he could to try not to even snicker. Her can’t let her win.

Oh, he can’t wait when this day is over, so he can just go back and… probably try out some of Barb’s sex puns on Felixa, see how she reacts.

With that, his lips curl in a lopsided grin.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to make this into a series, but I don't want to research Gotham City's geography again.
> 
> Maybe...I will. I'll have to actually construct Gotham City in some kind of crude map. My friend and GF's into this Jason-centric fluff/nsfw shite as well. I don't want to disappoint.
> 
> P.S. Btw, we have a tumblr: bees-and-greg-9229.tumblr.com


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